


Witness

by meverri



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mid-season 3, Nightmares, They discuss what happened with Miasma, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meverri/pseuds/meverri
Summary: Juno helps Nureyev with a nightmare.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 33
Kudos: 203





	Witness

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @hundred-separate-lines

Juno isn’t sure what wakes him, exactly. It could be the rush of cool air when the covers shift around him, or the light creaking of the mattress, or maybe just the lack of calm, deep, regular breathing beside him. Maybe it’s his own nightmare, and it just fades before he reaches consciousness. Could be anything.

Point is, he’s awake, and in that half-asleep moment before he’s fully aware, he stretches his arm out to the side and Nureyev isn’t there.

That gets him up quickly. His first thoughts are panicked – something’s happened, or someone’s attacked them, something’s wrong – and he rushes to reassure himself that it’s not a problem, that Nureyev’s probably just in the bathroom or something, and that not everything has to be an emergency all the time. That doesn’t work at all, so he sits, rubbing his face blearily and peering around the dark room. Sure enough, Nureyev isn’t there.

Juno lays back down, deciding to wait a couple of minutes before he allows himself to leave his bed. It’s warm there, and the pillow smells like Nureyev’s hair. Juno takes comfort in the scent, then feels guilty for doing so, and then reprimands himself for feeling guilty.

 _Nureyev trusts me,It’s okay to want him. It’s okay to miss him when he’s gone._ He’s been learning to forgive himself for needing people, and learning to let them need him as well.

It’s a process.

Juno turns to the side and strokes the soft sheet where Nureyev was laying when they fell asleep. It’s cool, but not cold; probably less than fifteen minutes since he got up, but probably more than five. The hull creaks quietly, and Juno holds his breath, listening for footsteps outside the door. When he hears nothing, and when Nureyev fails to appear at the door, Juno forces himself out of bed and into the cool night air.

The door to the bathroom is ajar, and there’s no light on inside. Juno knocks on it quietly, then opens it, just to be sure. Nureyev isn’t there.

Juno’s heart drops. If something happened – if he’s been sitting there for who-knows-how-long in the dark, and Nureyev’s hurt – 

No. Deep breaths. Panicking won’t help.

The hallway ends in a large circular family room. From the hall, Juno can make out the barest hint of light coming through the windows – starlight, bright and brilliant, and the reflection from a nearby planet, looming almost as large as Phobos and Deimos in the Martian sky. He turns the corner and wishes he had a weapon.

Nureyev is sitting on the floor beside the window, staring out at the swirls of stars. The path to the center of the Milky Way is bright in the center of the window, obfuscated by dust. Juno faintly remembers learning about it in school, back when he was a kid, on some stuffy hot day when all he wanted was to go home and play with Ben, or to ride Mick’s old rickety bike, or wrestle with Sasha, or – 

_Focus._ Nureyev’s on the floor. He’s wrapped himself in the blanket that they leave hanging on the back of the couch for movies, and he’s leaning his forehead against the window. He’s whispering to himself in the dark, his lips forming the same words over and over and over, far too quiet for Juno to hear, and he’s rocking back and forth a bit. If Juno squints, there are shining lights reflecting in two narrow paths down from his eyes to his chin. He’s crying.

_Oh, shit._

Juno approaches quietly, keeping his movements slow and apparent. Nureyev glances up when Juno enters his vision and flinches before visibly swallowing. His face goes blank, losing the quiet sadness it had a second ago. Juno curses internally.

“Hey.”

Nureyev smiles, but it’s carefully guarded, too reminiscent of Ransom for Juno’s liking. “Hello, Juno,” he says. “Sorry to wake you. I was just admiring the view.”

“Can I sit?” Juno asks, gesturing to the floor beside him.

Nureyev nods amiably. “Of course,” he says. He draws his knees up to his chest, making room for Juno to sit in front of him. Juno does so with care, not allowing his feet to brush up against Nureyev’s.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks.

“Oh,” says Nureyev breezily. He smiles and peers out the window. “Dear me, detective. I do wish I hadn’t woken you.”

Juno shrugs. “Well, I’m here anyway,” he says. “And you don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to, but you also don’t have to pretend nothing’s wrong.”

Nureyev freezes, and Juno almost regrets his words before he watches Nureyev close his eyes, take a deep breath, and let the mask fall. His expression returns to the one he’d had before Juno stepped closer, full of pain and fear and anger, and Juno sits quietly while he waits for Nureyev to emerge.

“I’m sorry,” says Nureyev.

“Don’t be,” says Juno. “I’m friends with Ransom, too.”

“I did promise I’d try to be more open with you,” Nureyev replies, picking at a loose thread on the blanket and resolutely not looking at Juno.

“I know,” says Juno. “I know, but that’s hard. You don’t have to do it all the time. You can still have secrets. You get to be your own person.”

Nureyev takes a deep breath, nods, and leans back against the window. Juno mirrors him and gazes out at the planet behind them, where they’d stopped to refuel less than a day ago. It had been a desert planet like Mars, only more yellow than red. Juno had simultaneously wished it felt more like home and less.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. At some point, Nureyev relaxes enough that his legs stretch out and brush against Juno’s. They’re smooth and cold against Juno’s skin. He wants to wrap Nureyev in a thousand blankets and wrap himself around that, to keep Nureyev safe from the entire galaxy for the rest of his life. The enormity of that love surprises him, for a second, and he has to let it fill his chest and then pass like a wave over his head, leaving behind the fear and the sadness and going back to quietly loving the man in front of him. It’s getting easier, with practice.

“I had a nightmare,” Nureyev says. 

Juno doesn’t look up. He doesn’t want to scare him off. He just hums quietly in confirmation that he’s heard, then goes right back to staring at the planet.

“We were underground,” says Nureyev. “You were there, strapped to that awful chair in Miasma’s lair. I was strapped to mine. I was flipping cards, and you were reading my mind.”

Those four sentences are almost enough to bring Juno back there. He lets the fear move over him like a wave again, submerges himself in it, and lets it pass. Nureyev presses his leg against Juno’s, applying just enough pressure to ground them both. Juno is quietly thankful.

“Your eye was bleeding. You looked exhausted, Juno. You had lost so much weight, and your eye never really stopped bleeding, at that point. You could barely walk into our little cell each night. You were so concerned for me, but I knew you were falling apart. I knew you wouldn’t last much longer, and I still just kept flipping cards, over and over and over, and I never just stopped.”

“Nureyev,” Juno says, but he’s interrupted by Nureyev’s rapid breaths.

“I should never have agreed to work for her,” Nureyev gasps. “And you were hurt, and I kept letting her do it – I kept flipping those cards, and you were dying, and I just kept going, Juno, and I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so –”

Juno shakes his head. “Nureyev,” he says, but Nureyev’s too busy hyperventilating to hear him, so he puts his hand on Nureyev’s knee. “Hey, can I hug you? Yes or no?”

Through his sobs, Nureyev nods, so Juno shifts and wraps his arms around Nureyev’s shoulders. He squeezes as tight as he can, laying his head on Nureyev’s shoulder. It seems like it helps a bit – Nureyev’s breathing slows, anyway – so Juno doesn’t let go, even when Nureyev has finally calmed down enough that he can speak again.

“I’m sorry, Juno. I’ve had that nightmare a thousand times. I don’t know why, but I had to get out of that room.”

“It’s okay,” says Juno. “None of this is your fault. None of it. Okay? This was Miasma. She’s the one who decided it would be okay to torture two random people who happened to find some alien relics, and also, oh yeah, tried to end the world. It’s not your fault. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else.”

Nureyev nods slowly, laying his head against Juno’s. “I know,” he says. “I know. I just think of that cave, and of the awful things she did to you, and I feel so powerless. I wanted to help you, and I didn’t know how.”

“You did help,” says Juno. “You helped me clean up, when she was done, and you got us both out of there, and you saved our asses a hundred times before that. And you still help, when I wake up from those nightmares and you’re just there, safe, next to me. It wasn’t fair that we ended up in that situation. We made the best of it.”

Nureyev nods against Juno’s head. Juno turns slightly and kisses Nureyev on the shoulder, then loosens his grip enough that he can run his hand slowly up and down Nureyev’s arm. They sit like that for a few more minutes, holding each other, until finally Juno lifts his head and tugs at Nureyev.

“Okay,” he says. “My back is killing me. Back to bed. You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to, but if we’re cuddling, we’re doing it under a ridiculous number of blankets.”

Nureyev rolls his eyes. “And which of us insisted on sleeping with two duvets?”

“It’s cozy. Shut up.” When Nureyev laughs, Juno lays his head against Nureyev’s shoulder. “Come oooon,” he whines. “I’m sleepy.”

“All right, all right,” says Nureyev. He kisses Juno on the cheek. “If you insist.”

“I do insist,” says Juno. He stands, then pulls Nureyev up beside him. “Time for bed.”

Nureyev folds the blanket over the back of the couch neatly. Juno snorts, and Nureyev goes red, muttering something about how “Ransom would fold it neatly.”

“He absolutely would not,” says Juno. “Ransom had six dirty mugs of tea in his room for a week before I even got here.”

“And who, exactly, told you that?” asks Nureyev.

“Jet.”

The two of them walk back down the hallway to their room and shut the door, then climb into bed. Juno opens his arms, and Nureyev lays his head down on Juno’s chest, snug against Juno’s steadily beating heart. The blankets warm up quickly, and Juno feels sleep calling to him, so he presses a kiss to the top of Nureyev’s head. Nureyev does the same to Juno’s chest. It makes something small and fierce bubble up into Juno’s throat, but before he can say anything, Nureyev’s asleep. 

_I love you,_ Juno thinks, and then he dreams of red skies.


End file.
